it's never as hard as you think
by the general girl
Summary: For the first time, Sasuke will chase Sakura. — SasuSaku, AU.
1. Resolve

**title:** it's never as hard as you think **  
>rating:<strong> Strong T, maybe light M.  
><strong>note:<strong> So this is the "happier" version of my SSM drabble** black coffee** that I was talking about! This is will be a short drabble series, updated frequently because the chapters aren't going to be very long. Just something to get wrap my head around before tackling bigger projects.

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><p>"Hello."<p>

The woman sits across from him, pink hair held haphazardly in a messy braid, a grey scarf hiding the slim white column of her throat. A cup of coffee sits steaming in front of her. He notes that the white mug is slightly chipped on the handle, and so is the blue polish on her nails.

Sasuke nods in greeting, before turning his attention back to the book in his hands. His own cup of tea has gone cold now, but he barely notices.

He only has time to read three more sentences before the light scent of lavender invades his senses. He looks up, two fingers automatically sliding his reading glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

She is peering into his nearly empty cup, a wrinkle decorating her forehead. She is much too close.

"You should ask for a refill."

Sasuke shrugs once, before pointedly going back to his reading.

They sit in silence for a few long minutes until he hears her sharp intake of breath.

He does not want to do this.

"Sasuke, we need to talk." He knows without looking up that her eyes will be green and reproachful. Huge. Possibly shining with unshed tears.

She'd been crying a lot lately. He knows, because he is the one responsible.

But he will not let her manipulate him into having a conversation he vehemently did not want to have, not for all the sad green eyes in the world. Not even if his hands itched to comb wayward strands of pink back from her face. Not even if she does, actually, cry.

She falls silent once more, long fingers uncurling themselves from the mug only to spread themselves on the table. He notes her movements out of the corner of his eye, watching the slim digits tap an unknown melody against the peeling wood.

He will only speak to Sakura, he thinks to himself, to politely ask her to stop the drumming. He cannot concentrate, he will say, and then direct his eyes back to the text in front of him before he could be caught by her face, her expression, her voice—the familiarity in all her little tells.

"Sasuke, I'm leaving," she says in response to his quiet request.

He freezes. Finally puts the book down.

"The café." He levels his eyes at her, taking off his glasses with deliberate movements.

She sighs, a single puff of air that ruffles her bangs. "No. Konoha. I'm leaving Konoha. I've been offered a very good position at a top ranking hospital in Suna," she slants a look at him from beneath lowered lashes, "And besides, I think…I think it'd do both of us good to spend some time apart. Maybe when I come back things can…things can go back to the way it was before."

It will never be the same, he wants to say. Not when he knew what her naked skin felt like under his hands now. Not when he could imagine perfectly the weight of her long legs locking themselves around his waist or the feel of her breasts in his palms. Not after he'd cataloged every inch of her by sight and taste and touch. When he closes his eyes he can still recall the hushed, quiet sounds she makes under him, the exact green of her eyes as she reaches her peak.

He drowns himself in the memories for a moment, and by the time he resurfaces she is already gone, a crumpled ten-dollar bill lying on top of the table.

Her cup of coffee is empty.

It only takes another second for him to decide that even if he'd been the one to break her heart in the first place, he cannot, _will not_, lose her—

Some might call him a selfish man, he thinks with a ghost of a smile, but he's never actually denied it.

Sasuke only pauses long enough to scoop her money off the table, throwing down his own instead, and then he is striding out of the small café, eyes already sweeping the streets for any sign of pink.

He would catch her, and then he would make her listen, though he's never been very good with words. But despite his lack of eloquence, she would make up for it with her own quiet understanding. Sakura was always like that, always watching him, observing, noting what he wanted to say before he even realized it himself. His steps are hurried now, hands clenching when there is no sign of the girl.

A cold November wind rolling through the streets suddenly makes him realize that he'd forgotten his coat back in the café. Sasuke grits his teeth and keeps walking, making the left that would eventually take him towards her apartment.

She'd said her flight was tonight.

Uchiha do not give up.

When Sasuke arrives at her apartment, her windows are dark and empty. Slipping his cell phone out of his pants pocket, he dials the number without thinking, staring intently up at the darkened windows. He wonders where she is now, if she was taking a cab to the airport or if someone—most likely Naruto—was driving her. Wonders if she really thinks she is getting away from him.

She may have said that she hoped everything could go back to the way it was _before_ there'd been a _them_, but she's mistaken. Sasuke may have broken it off, may have been the one who'd left her crying hot, angry tears in her apartment, but he will not have her forget him. That will never be an option.

The call goes through, "This is Uchiha Sasuke, president of the Uchiha Corps. I need you to put through a list of every flight going out to Suna tonight—and then delay them. Yes. All of them."

He snaps the phone shut on the flustered exec on the other line.

He will catch her, and then he will never let her go.

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><p><strong>tbc<strong>


	2. Presumptions

**note:** Annnd here we have chapter two. WRITING THIS WAS SO CATHARTIC. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, put this on alert, etc!

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><p>Her flight is delayed.<p>

And, judging by the way all the seats in the boarding area are crammed, so are possibly half of the other planes at the airport.

Sakura is never one for melodrama or dramatics, has never thought the world revolved around her or ever wanted to be the hero-that's always been someone else's job. But this, this she has an inkling might just have something to do with her.

Pursing her lips, she hauls herself and her luggage to her feet and makes for the information desk.

"Excuse me, do you know why the flights are delayed?" The woman standing behind the desk takes a few moments to respond, eyes focused on whatever was behind the raised ledge of the counter. When she finally looks at Sakura, her gaze is cool, impersonal, disinterested.

"I'm sorry mam, but I'm not allowed to say. Security reasons." Eyes back on the desk.

Sakura bites back a scathing reply about shitty customer service, but she can't help but linger for a few more seconds, glowering, before turning and lugging herself back to her mercifully still unoccupied seat.

She hates looking the way she does sometimes, short and slight and bubblegum pink. Her appearance means she can never command attention like Ino or even Hinata does. The only time she's ever felt in charge was in a starched white lab coat, clicking heels lending her height, her knowledge and her skills lending her authority.

She had felt the same way about Sasuke. Feel. Felt.

Sasuke, who she's known since she was a kid and who'd been her rock, her goal. Who'd defined her before her intelligence or her medical degree. Loving him, loving him had been the one part of her childhood that she couldn't let go of. Everything else-the vanity, the shame, the insecurity-had been banished a long time ago. Everything except Sasuke, whom she's never given up on.

And when he'd said he wanted her, wanted if not loved, she'd been...overjoyed, overwhelmed. They'd dated for a year. They dated for a year and in _her_ opinion anyways, it'd been great. It'd been phenomenal because he was finally _looking_ at her in that way of his, with soft eyes and a half smile. He was doing it all the time, in _public _even, and she was finally allowed more than the occasional tentative touch.

She'd been so happy.

Then one inconsequential Monday afternoon he'd dropped by her apartment, weary curves shaping his shoulders, and he'd said-

"Sakura."

Her eyes snap open-when had they closed?-because that voice is too real for her memories. Uchiha Sasuke stands in front of her, still wearing the black cashmere sweater he'd been sporting in the cafe, reading glasses sticking haphazardly out of a pants pocket.

Sakura frowns, her earlier suspicions now confirmed.

"Sasuke. What're you doing here?"

She can tell by the slight twist of his lips that he is displeased by the absence of the familiar suffix. She smiles thinly, glad.

"You're not leaving."

The people immediately around her are watching the quiet exchange, riveted; the women in particular seems to find Sasuke extremely fascinating. Sakura doesn't blame them. Even in the aftermath, she still finds his face (and body hands eyes) devastating. It hurts worse now, because she knows what it's like to be able to call him _hers._

"I don't believe that's your decision to make. Were you the one that delayed all the flights?" He doesn't answer, but that is truth enough for Sakura.

"You're not going to Suna, Sakura. I won't allow it." His voice is even, calm and matter-of-fact. It makes her nostrils flare, and when the words come, she doesn't bother to disguise the anger.

"Excuse me? You're acting like you still have some right to dictate what I do. You gave that up months ago, Sasuke."

He shifts, those long fingers of his clenching once, twice around his mobile. "I changed my mind, Sakura. It was...a mistake. We can try again."

Sasuke's admission nearly breaks her. But it'd always been like this, hadn't it? She'd centered her world around Uchiha Sasuke. Pursued her studies to prove to him that she wasn't useless. Made most of her decisions with the thought of him in the back of her mind.

The speakers come to life above them and someone announces that "all problems are now resolved" and all flights should be up and running. The people around her start getting their things and making their way to their departure gate, generating a buzz of relief and impatience.

Sakura stands up too, gathering her one, bulky bag, and looks Sasuke in the eye.

"I'm sorry." And she is, but this feels good, too. Liberating.

This time, it is Haruno Sakura who leaves Uchiha Sasuke with his heart in his throat and his head in hands.


	3. Tonight

**notes:** I'm really glad so many of you are liking this! It's definitely fun to write, anyway. :) Thanks for the reviews, support, etc!

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><p>Sakura allows herself to wonder, only once, if she's made the wrong choice. Because if she'd chosen Sasuke, if she'd chosen him again, then right now, at this very moment she could be curled in the protective circle of his arms. Hiding from the chill of winter.<p>

She spends exactly five minutes indulging in her fantasies and old regrets, eyes closed to the dark. When she opens them again, she concentrates on the hard mattress at her back, the thin sheen of cold sweat covering her brow.

Here, in the desert, the temperature is always at extremes: blisteringly hot during the day and so, so cold at night. All of her small windows are still open though, a habit left over from Konoha summers. Sakura thinks she might be feverish, maybe delusional. The rational part of her brain shrieks and yells and stomps its feet. That part of her wants to close the windows. Avoid pneunomia.

Her first day starts at the hospital in half a week. She's supposed to oversee the new experimental cardiology department as well as attend as the head surgeon. Getting sick won't do.

But she doesn't get up and only toes the rest of the blankets off of her body. Her bare skin prickles in the wake of cold air and she can't help but feel triumphant in defying any good sense she has left.

The paint is uneven on the ceiling, Sakura notes from her position on the bed. The lit streetlamps outside provide just enough light for her to make out shadows and contrasts, hazy shapes of ideas etched over her head.

Sakura vaguely thinks that the light patch in the corner resembles Naruto's profile in silhouette. She knows that none of what she sees is actually there, that her brain tricks itself into recognizing faces and familiar, reassuring patterns from meaninglessness.

She's not very sure where she's going with this particular train of thought anymore. Sakura turns over, groans and presses her face against the pillow. It smells strange, not like hers at all, and there is no comfort derived from the scratchy sheets pooled beneath her back.

Fevers help the body purge itself of infections. Sakura knows hers is not caused by any virus or bacteria-it's Uchiha Sasuke. Tonight will be the worst of it. She will try as hard as she can to empty her heart of him, and at the end-when she wakes up tomorrow, she will only have to contend with all the little pieces of him hiding in the crevices of her memory. Sakura will avoid tea and the business section of the newspaper for a time, she knows, and when she forgets to do that, reminders of him will sneak up on her and she will be quietly bowled over.

But there are three long years to learn to cope with that.

In the meantime she will have the hospital and the gritty sandstorms of the day to distract herself with. After tonight she will remember to close the windows and buy new sheets. She will wash them with her favorite fabric softener and they will smell like home.

Right now though, she will drown in the wanting for just a little longer. Some things, after all, must get worse before they get better.


	4. Enough

**note:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Your thoughts are always appreciated and I'd love to keep hearing what you think.

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><p>He wants to go after her.<p>

He wants to take these few short steps and grab her arm, her shirt, any part of her. To shake her and make her realize that this time they'd _work, _that she belongs here with him. To him.

Sasuke's spine is rigid from desire, from raw need, and he never thought it would work out this way. Sakura has never walked away from him before. She has always been..._there_. She is the most reliable person in his life, someone that he can always count on being exactly where he'd left her.

He realizes that this is no longer the case when she disappears around the bend and a smiling flight attendant closes the gate. His eyes shift to the plane outside the window, to what will take her away from him.

He knows he can call the airline again and, now that he knew what flight she was on, detain her plane. He can even prevent her from leaving the country, if he wants.

He can keep her with him always.

But Sasuke also knows that she will hate him for it. She will hate him and spite him and hide from him, until all they are are two politely distant strangers. And every time they met-on the streets, at gatherings with mutual friends-she will remind him with hard green eyes the way he'd first left her heart broken on the floor and then how he'd proceeded to rip her dreams apart.

He still wants her here, with him, anyways.

Sasuke finds that it is hard to move, to relax his shoulders and unclench his hands. The boarding area is empty now, and he wants to be gone before it starts filling up for the next flight. He also wants to stand still and never leave, disbelieving in the aftermath of her words and her choice. He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe when he opens them again she will be standing in front of him, a resplendent smile on her face.

When he does open his eyes again her plane is already turning towards the tarmac, the space in front of him empty. That is when he knows that she is definitely, definitely gone.

He finally manages to uncurl his fists, if not his knotted heart. The ringing of his cellphone breaks Sasuke out of his stupor. He ignores the call, turns, and walks away without looking back. He leaves something behind, there, at the place where she proves him wrong.

But this, this is the least he can do for her.

Sasuke will give her time, and space-miles and miles of it-and at the end of three long years she will come back. If she doesn't, he will go to her. He will go to her and show her that he can love her in absence just as much as when she is warm and breathing in his arms. He will hold her and prove to her with the strength of his grip and the persistence of his kisses the choices that he will never force her to make again.

Finally, because he understands why she needed to leave, he will tell her in halting words that he loves her, and why.

_Even if you didn't love me back, _he might say.

And he hopes that it will be enough.


	5. Two Years

**note:** T-T-T-TIME SKIP! Thanks for all the feedback as usual! (And I _am_ working on my longer fics. :) )

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><p>The sunlight blinds Sakura when she tilts her head up to the sky, but she finds that she doesn't mind. It is only seven in the morning and the normally harsh Suna sun is still in the middle of rising. Everything is a soft white and gold and the warmth suffuses her bones.<p>

She smiles, stretching and reaching up towards the sky. Her entire body is a collection of tired aches, and she's still wearing her hospital scrubs. She's just gotten out of a twelve hour surgery, and is scheduled to make some rounds in about thirty minutes.

Sakura is very, _very_ tired, but her smile is genuine and the sigh that escapes is one born of a job well done.

Underneath the sunshine, she nearly glows. The past two and a half years have definitely treated Haruno Sakura really, very well.

"Dr. Haruno?"

"I'll be right in, Mayuri." Sakura takes one last, long look at the sunrise before turning to follow the nurse back into the hospital.

Up until this very moment, she hasn't thought of him in weeks and weeks.

They used to watch the sun rise together.

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><p>Later, Sakura sits around a table at the local bar, surrounded by a collection of doctors she's become acquainted with at work. Temari sits immediately to her left, invited even though she isn't a doctor. Being Gaara's sister pretty much means you know just about everybody.<p>

There is laughter and beer and comfortable banter between friends. Sakura sips at her drink in silence, a constant smile on her face, content to listen to the others talk.

"Sakura-san, isn't you program ending in a couple of months?" Dr. Tanaka's question catches her by surprise. She hadn't really planned that far, to be honest.

"I suppose I might apply for a permanent position and stay," she answers slowly. Then a grin steals over her face, "Scared, Tanaka-san?"

The man laughs good naturedly, "I know at least a couple of guys who'd be happy you were staying for the long term."

Temari looks at her strangely, a quirk in her eyebrow, "You're not going back to Konoha?"

Sakura shrugs, eyes watching the dim flicker of the light fixture hanging over their table.

"I don't see any reason why I should. Not so soon anyways." Her smile dies by slow degrees with every word she says. The rest of the small table is silent now, intrigued. She's aware of every pair of eyes and suddenly, Sakura wishes she was back in her small apartment. Alone, yes, but at least she's never been cruel enough to want any explanations from herself.

"That's right, Sakura-chan. You're from Konoha! Got any boyfriends stashed back home?" Yoshida Miu punctuates each of her sentence with a giggle. The normally calm and competent doctor is, for the lack of a better word, smashed. Her fingers are loosely curled around a shot glass full of vodka. At least three empty glasses surround her.

Sakura presses her lips into a thin line, deliberately setting her glass down and standing, "No. No boyfriends. Sorry guys, I have to head in early tonight."

She's about to push back her chair when Dr. Tanaka grabs her arm. Immediately stiffening, she regards the tanned fingers splayed against her skin with distaste. Back in Konoha, she'd been a physically affectionate girl. Here in Suna, she detests anybody touching her.

"Come on Sakura-san, stay! I heard you used to be acquainted with Uchiha Sasuke-san. Tell us what it's like to be friends with a billionaire, eh?" The man's voice is jovial and his grip is light, but the touch, that name-

It's been two and a half years, and Sakura does not lose control.

Unwrapping Tanaka's fingers from her arm, she says very calmly, "We were never really that close."

And as Sakura leaves the bar-the smoke the haze the drink-behind, she pretends not to notice Temari's speculative gaze on her back.


	6. Birthdays

**note:** Two years ago as in when Sakura first left.

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><p><em>Approximately two years ago<em>.

"You have to stop moping all the time, bastard."

"I don't mope, idiot."

"Hey, calling me names isn't gonna get you anywhere! If you miss her so much, you should just call her."

"I don't know which 'her' you're referring to."

"Sasuke, don't be an ass."

"..."

"Just pick up the phone and call her!"

"...I don't have her number."

"Wha-? She never gave it to you?"

"No."

"Oh. Uh...do you want it?"

"Naruto, if she didn't see fit to give it to me in the first place then obviously she doesn't want me to call. Now get out of my office unless you have some legitimate reason to be here."

"Fine, fine, _jeez_. Just because you got dumped..."

"_Out._"

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><p>She'd left a month ago, and every. Single. Day, he thinks of her.<p>

He knows that this isn't like him, that he should be able to forcibly remove her from his mind. The first few days after she'd gotten on that plane, he'd found himself continuously picking up his phone, the first half of Gaara's number already dialed before he came to his senses.

It isn't half as bad now. He doesn't wake up expecting to find her next to him anymore, but she never fails to cross his mind at least once or twice a day. It's always the little things that get him: the occasional flash of pink, a familiar laugh or the smell of lavender, sometimes apples. Whenever he crosses paths with a reminder of her, it always feels like a first-a hard, fast hit to the gut.

Sasuke is currently sitting in the middle of an important meeting with a client from overseas. This meeting will determine if Uchiha Corps will be acquiring another property or not, or if the company up for sale falls into the hands of rivaling businesses.

Sasuke doesn't give a flying fuck how the meeting goes.

He doesn't show it, of course: his poker face is in place, and his eyes are dark and attentive as the man goes on about market saturation and distribution, when in fact he's wandering lost somewhere in last March twenty eighth, trying to remember what he'd done for her birthday.

...they hadn't spent much time out of the bed, that much he could recall. That and the particularly enthusiastic way Sakura had shown him she was happy to be alive.

Sasuke's hand curls itself into a fist, as if he can physically hold onto the weight of his memories.

Frowning, he forces himself to pay attention to the man speaking up front, already readying his own speech in his mind. For the next hour and a half Uchiha Sasuke is completely focused on business, on acquisitions and convincing the business that selling themselves to his corporation is the best possible move. His right hand though, remains closed in a fist throughout.

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><p><em>Present, March 20.<br>_

The day dawns slowly, the light filtering through the floor to ceiling windows of his high-rise flat. The pale sunlight creeps steadily over the silk sheets of his bed, tinting his skin with the golden glow of warmth if not the thing itself.

The moment the streaming sun hits his eyes, Sasuke is awake. He sits up, one hand raking through his hair. The sheets slide down a bare chest until they pool around his waist in a puddle of silk. Sasuke turns his head towards the sun, eyes slitted against the light. Today is March twentieth. It will be her twenty-fifth birthday in eight days. Two birthdays spent apart, two days each year of wondering who she is with, what she is doing.

His bedroom is sparse and cold, the entire wall of eastward facing windows flooding the space with light but not warmth. There is his bed, and a desk, outfitted with a laptop and a chair, but that's it. The only thing hanging on his bare walls is a calendar above his computer, where he circles the dates of important meetings and crosses off the days as they pass. Sasuke had gotten it after she left.

He isn't a pining man, and even if he thinks of her regularly it is now only in small instances, a few seconds per day of remembrance. The calendar is his only physical concession to his wanting, to regret.

Sasuke has counted the days, but subconsciously, automatically, and it is only now that he realizes how soon she is supposed to be coming home. Anticipation settles in the pit of his stomach as he gets out of bed, unabashedly naked.

The daylight highlights the tense lines of his face and offers a glimpse of tightly pressed lips before he turns away from the window.

It won't be long now.

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><p>"Hey teme! Didn't think you'd make it!" Naruto waves him over to their table. Sasuke is surprised to see Gaara's sister occupying the opposite seat. A waitress, eyes speculative, tries to hand him a menu. He ignores her and makes a beeline for the two blonds.<p>

Sliding into his seat, Sasuke raises an eyebrow at the woman across the table. It isn't rare to see Temari around Konoha because she is Suna's ambassador, but the oldest Sand sibling had never made it a point to spend any time alone with Naruto before.

"Hey Uchiha," she says by way of greeting. Sasuke gives a curt nod in return.

"Stick still stuck in your ass, I see?" Temari smirks.

Naruto snickers, "If you really knew Sasuke-teme you wouldn't even have to ask."

Sasuke rolls his eyes but chooses not to dignify the jibe with a response, instead addressing the ambassador, voice low and polite, "Temari-san, what brings you to Konoha this time?"

"So the boy does have some manners after all? Nothing much, just some routine political nudging," Temari supplies. Her tone then shifts, "I thought the first thing you'd do is ask me about Sakura."

Sasuke stiffens, but Naruto thankfully, obliviously, plows on, "Ahh, Sakura-chan! How is she? Is she gonna come home soon?"

"About that," Temari's eyes shift to settle on Sasuke, "She says she might stay permanently after all. She seems to be getting fond of Suna."

Naruto starts protesting vehemently from besides him, but Sasuke does not notice at all. Instead, every single nerve of his body is strung-tight, and the only thing he is aware of is-

He's given her enough space, enough time. If she insists on running, on continuing to hide-

He will go to her.

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><p>That night, Sasuke clears his schedule for the next two weeks and books his flight.<p>

He will be in Suna by March twenty-eighth.

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><p><strong>an: **Guess who's getting a Sasuke for her birthday present?**  
><strong>


	7. March 28th

**note: The Long Way Home **is killing me. _Killing me. _I have all these snippets written out and no idea how to put them together. So here I am. Writing something else. _Venting_.

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><p><em>March twenty-eighth.<em>

Her parents get her a book for every birthday. They still do it now, except instead of storybooks about princesses locked in castles, she gets big, hulking medical texts. They're always a little dusty when she unwraps the package, because her mother picks out the book months before March and until then, it will sit on the shelf, untouched.

Naruto used to send her silly things, like ramen coupons and free foot-rubs, until she managed to get him to stop. Now he sends whatever brand of chocolate she craves at the moment.

Sasuke sent her pressed flowers and takes her anywhere she wants for a day (_anywhere and she always chooses a rocky beach exactly twenty miles away, waters burnished gold from the sunrise soaking) _and is always ready with dry comments and snide remarks.

Ino throws her big parties and all her other friends will gift her with...Sakura doesn't really remember, but she will say happiness, and the joy of belonging.

For the past two years, the only thing she lets herself receive are her parents' books, even though by the time the actual thing is sent whatever medical information printed that was cutting edge a few months ago is now obsolete. They don't just send her _a_ book anymore. To compensate for the distance, she gets an entire _crate _full of irrelevant knowledge and her parents' love.

She keeps them anyways, and they fill her empty shelf with her only reminders of home.

(Sasuke sent her pressed flowers and takes her anywhere she wants for a day every year except for one-one year they almost forget and they miss the sunrise at the beach because instead they are busy, too busy being tangled up in each other's bare limbs and Sasuke just manages to go out and get her flowers at 11:52 that night.

Sakura hides the flowers between the pages of her medical books and pretends she never took them with her to Suna.)

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><p>She never takes the day off, but someone somewhere (possibly one of the nurses) has access to her files and knows that today is her birthday, so her case-load is suspiciously light. By the time she leaves the hospital though, the sky is still nearly dark.<p>

It's a good day, Sakura thinks as a light breeze lifts the end of her gauzy scarf and tangles her hair. The parking lot of the hospital is quiet; she is alone, and her footfalls don't interrupt the dusk because Sakura's learned the art of silence from walking amongst grief all day.

She takes her time making her way back to her apartment, a short two blocks away in case there's an emergency at work (there always is). Sakura can drive, she has a license, but she can't be bothered to buy a car. Buying a car is permanent, and permanence in Suna scares her despite what she'd told Temari.

It's the same reason for why her flat is equipped with only the bare minimum in terms of furniture, the reason why her walls are blank and her windowsills empty.

Sakura hums as she nears her apartment complex, a squat brick building that serves as housing for the younger interns in the hospital. She's the only fully licensed practitioner that lives there, but Sakura doesn't mind. She'd finished her residency and fellowship quickly, so she's the same age as most of the interns and fellows. She blends in here, and it's a bit like camouflage.

Sakura thinks that she can hear the rustling of leaves nearby, even though there are no trees in Suna, just the occasional cacti. She likes the idea though, and purposefully makes her steps louder, falling into cadence with an imaginary tune.

When she reaches her street, Sakura doesn't bother lifting her head-still counting her footsteps-so she doesn't see who's standing in front of the entrance until it's too late.

"Happy birthday," Sasuke says.

For several seconds, she forgets how to breathe. She just...forgets. There is this man in front of her apartment, and his hair is dark and his eyes are slate. His hands are in his pockets and his expression, his expression is unsure and he is beautiful, still beautiful and who is he and why is he looking at her like that?

Then her brain rushes to catch up to her heart and Sakura is-

When has Sasuke ever looked anything other than perfectly calm, perfectly collected?

(Even as he ripped her heart apart, because yes, she's remembering now. She can recall his words perfectly and the play of light across the angles of his face as he demolishes her, letter by letter, word by word.)

"Hello," Sakura replies, because she is still in shock, because she thinks she might be hallucinating, because of a million little things like the catch in her throat and the skipped beats of her heart.

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><p>For some reason that she can't remember, Sakura has invited Sasuke up to her apartment. Actually, it'd be more correct to say that he'd just...followed her in the absence of words.<p>

The click of the front door closing behind her is incredibly loud, and she busies herself with sliding the chain-locks into place, even though she's never used them before. Her back is turned towards him, but Sakura can still feel Sasuke watching her. It's unnerving, but then just _being_ in the same room as him makes her feel off-balance. She suspects that this will never change; it only gets better with distance-Sasuke's effect on her isn't something that will ever completely fade away.

Suddenly, Sakura wishes she'd told him to leave when they were still downstairs. Instead, she will politely offer him a cup of tea, thank him for visiting and then, equally politely, show him the way out. Yes. That's it.

Somehow she knows that that's not the way it'll turn out.

"What are you doing here?" The words are biting and definitely not polite at all. She _has_ moved to the small kitchenette though, and her hands are gripping the edge of the counter tightly, even as she tries to remember where she keeps her tea.

(Sakura never drinks it-she prefers coffee, and the fact that she always has a tin or two of the best quality leaves on hand anyways is another one of the little reasons that she hates him. Loves him. Hates him.)

"It's your birthday," he says carefully. Sakura looks up from the laminate counter, surprised by the wariness in his voice. Like she's an animal he's scared of frightening away. And she _is _scared-the dark circles under his eyes terrify her, the fact that his hair's even messier than usual, the fact that his face is even paler than she remembers, makes her want to run far, far away.

He is appealingly rumpled, and Sakura has to fight the urge to swallow nervously.

"You never said anything the two years before," she finally manages to reply.

His answer is a low "I know", before he makes his slow way around the counter separating the kitchenette and the living room-between him and her.

Sakura holds her breath when he brushes past her to get to the cupboards in the back; the space is so small, and he is dominating all of it. She can feel the heat of him at her back when he gets the tea tin from the top of the leftmost cabinet. It makes her angry to realize that it's the exact same spot where she'd kept it in Konoha-it makes her even angrier to realize that he'd remembered.

Sasuke sets the tin of tea besides Sakura's left hand on the counter, and settles himself behind her. He cages her for a moment in his arms, and she swears, Sakura _swears_ she can feel the pressure of his lips against her hair for a split-second, but then the smell of soap and dusk is receding until she feels nothing but the customary chill at the end of the day.

Sakura tells herself that she doesn't miss the warmth.

* * *

><p>She makes him tea in silence, and he drinks it in silence too, leaning against the counter and always watching her over the rim of his mug. Sakura's craved Sasuke's intensity, his undivided attention for years, but now that she finally has it-<p>

She doesn't know if she wants him to look away or not.

Sakura doesn't bother turning on any of the lights, so his features are shaded in the dark and light blues of the traffic and street lamps distilled through her thick windows. She still doesn't know what to say, and she knows even less of Sasuke's intentions. He hasn't said anything beyond a polite thank-you when she'd handed him his drink, and in the steam from the mug rising between them, she can't discern anything at all from the dimly lit planes of his face.

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><p>It is only eight forty-five, but Sakura is so, so tired.<p>

Sasuke is still watching her, hands curled around his cup of tea even though what's left of it has long since gone cold. In lieu of sitting there and doing nothing, she'd relented and clicked on the kitchen light. Sakura had immediately known that it was a mistake when she realized that in the harsh fluorescent glow she could feel his dark eyes trained on her even more intently.

But it would have looked silly if she'd got up and turned it back off, so they'd sat in the lit kitchen, and the only sound was the buzzing of the overhead light.

Sakura finally speaks, "I'm going to bed."

Sasuke only nods, and tells her quietly that he'll take care of the cleaning. She snorts, taking the mug from him and dumping the leaves into the sink, but not before catching the small twitch of his lips. She looks away before the expression can fully form, because Haruno Sakura knows she has no defense against Uchiha Sasuke's smile.

When she's done, she shuts off the faucet and says, very simply, "You can take the couch."

This time his smile-she's only ever seen it three times in her life-catches Sakura by surprise.

She nearly runs into her bedroom, the door closing with a comforting, solid thud behind her. It isn't enough though, Sasuke's presence is thick in her apartment. She wonders what he's doing outside, if he will use her shower, if he will sleep on her couch and if afterwards the cushions will smell like him.

Leaning against the door, knees pulled up to her chest, Sakura closes her eyes and this time cannot deny the pounding of her heart.

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><p><strong>an: **This turned out to be way, _way_ too long. What better way to celebrate your birthday than with a bit of Sasuke-staring?


	8. Morning

**note: **Sorry for the late update! I was on vacation the week before and had nearly no internet access and definitely no writing time. Just a chapter more and maybe an epilogue after this! Enjoy. :)

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><p>When Sakura wakes up, the apartment is quiet. She sits up in bed, covers already restlessly thrown aside in the heat of mid-morning; her alarm clock is silent on the bedside table, and it takes her a panic-stricken second to remember that her shift wouldn't start until the middle of the afternoon.<p>

She feels hazy, mind muddled and slow. Memories of last night are sketchy and it takes another long moment for her to remember who is supposed to be on her couch.

Sakura's breath catches in her throat, and she wonders if he is still asleep. He wouldn't be, she thinks, because he'd always been an early riser.

Her door creaks when she nudges it open, and it is incredibly loud in the silence. Sakura has associated this quiet with being alone, and she isn't surprised when she steps out into the living room to find it empty. Last night could very well have been a very realistic dream-or nightmare.

She is twenty-five today, and Sakura despairs just a little at the fact that she feels no different being twenty five than she did at twenty-four or twenty-three. Wandering and always just a bit unfulfilled-always just a bit wanting.

Rubbing a hand tiredly across her face, she pads soundlessly across the wooden floor to the kitchenette. The water for her first cup of coffee for the day is already boiling before she notices the small package on the counter.

It's an inconspicuous white plastic bag, the size of a notebook and lying almost flat against the counter. She knows, even before tracing the faint outline of stem and leaves and flowers, what it would be.

Inside is a small bunch of pressed violets, the purple flowers brilliant against the white of the bag and the countertop.

"Do you like them?"

His soft voice, loud in the quiet, startles her. Looking up, Sakura watches as Sasuke locks the door behind him. In one hand is a greasy take-out bag.

"I got you breakfast," he continues after a beat of silence. She can only nod, eyes full and hands futilely tugging on the hem of the large t-shirt she wears every night to bed. The raised counter obscures her bare legs from his gaze, but around Sasuke, it's best to never be anything less than decent.

"Thank you, for the flowers too." She finally says after she manages to find her voice.

Sasuke shrugs and sets the bag on the counter. Sakura is still holding the flowers, and she watches him watching her fiddling with the brittle petals from under half-mast eyes.

"I-"

"It's-"

They both start at the same time. Sasuke stops and nods, waiting for her to continue. Clearing her throat, Sakura tries again, "I thought you'd gone back this morning."

The smile he gives her in return is grim and just a bit self-deprecating. It's not an expression that she's ever seen on his face, but he wears it well. It softens all his severe lines and makes him just a bit more human.

"I didn't come all this way just to drink a cup of tea."

Sakura nods, finally letting go of the flowers. For lack of anything else to do and still all too aware of his scrutiny, she gets the bag from the counter and takes two styrofoam containers out of it. Popping one open, she raises her eyebrows when she finds a small stack of pancakes. A little squished in the square box, but still warm, with a fresh pat of butter and a large serving of strawberries and blueberries besides.

"What _did_ you come here for, then?"

"To see you," he answers simply. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"To bring you home with me."

She raises her head at this, automatically stepping out from behind the counter, eyes already dark with anger.

_You can't make me doing anything_, and _I stopped thinking about what you wanted a long time ago_ is ready on her lips and halfway out of her mouth before her voice dies at the expression on his face.

Sasuke is looking at her like he wants to...like he wants to have her for breakfast instead of the pancakes. His eyes are skimming across the long lines of her legs, across faint shadows straining against her shirt in a way that makes Sakura acutely aware of the fact that she's not wearing a bra.

He takes advantage of the silence, of her surprise, and advances. His eyes are dark, and they're lingering on the hollow of her throat now, on her collarbone. Then he's close, too close, and she takes a step back. He follows, backing her up against the kitchen wall, but making no move to cage her with his arms.

Sasuke's fingers rest lightly, tentatively on the pale skin at her limp wrists, completely at odds with his intensity of expression. This close, she can smell him again-both the fresh scent of the aftershave he's always used and the sunshine of a new day.

"Please," he whispers, head angled and breath warm on her lips, "if you don't come home, at least let me stay."

The soft plea undoes her, and when his lips finally close the scant few inches between them, Sakura doesn't-_can't_ resist.


	9. Dénouement

**note: **Longest for last! Just the epilogue left, hopefully up by tomorrow.

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><p>The kiss is gentle, barely a press of skin to skin. Sasuke stays motionless against her mouth, and she, she can't help but lift her hand and sink her fingers into his baby-fine hair and, sighing, slant her lips more advantageously over his.<p>

His mouth opens in a rush of warm breath and Sakura greedily takes him in, tangling their tongues and pressing closer until her breasts are crushed flat against his chest. His arms finally move, shifting from his side to curl around her waist, banding her to him, and they're suddenly plastered from chest to hip.

Sasuke tugs on her bottom lip, and in response she moans into his mouth. Letting go with a wet pop, he moves on to dust the delicate skin of her neck with soft kisses, pausing at the juncture of her neck and shoulder to bury his face there, stilling for just a moment. Sakura counts three warm puffs of air against her throat, head thrown back against the wall. She's gasping from the need, from how familiar and how different this kiss-these kisses are. In the absence of movement her brain's starting to wake up, to think, and she almost manages to remember why they definitely shouldn't be doing this, why his hands shouldn't be up her shirt when Sasuke moves again.

His mouth finds hers for another searing kiss, and her fingers are twisted in his hair, their legs hopelessly tangled. He's insistent, so insistent but at the same time, in every touch, in every nip and lick and press of his fingers there is a question, and Sakura is distressed to find that her answer, every single time, is a resounding _yes, yes yes _yes.

Her hands are slipping down to grip his shoulders restlessly now, nails digging through cotton and finding skin, and his, his are passing over her stomach, her back, the t-shirt bunching over his wrists. Another few centimeters upwards and suddenly he's cupping a bare breast. Sakura gasps, the sound sharp in the silence. The noise interrupts the rhythm of their breathing, and Sasuke stops, forehead tipped against hers, breath poised over her lips. His hand-the right-is still covering her breast, and the heat drives her to distraction. Sakura wants movement, she _needs_ friction, and at the same time she never wants to move-she wants to stay here forever, his hand over her heart.

Her eyes are closed, she realizes, shut tight against the light. She opens them slowly, slitted against the bright sunshine streaming in through the windows. A cool shadow hovers over her, and Sasuke's looking right at her, eyes hooded, pupils blown. Stray strands of inky hair frames his face, barely brushing the tops of his cheekbones. He's perfect, she dazedly thinks, _this_ is perfect. Her heart can't remember why her brain was so adamant on not getting close, on never getting closer, because _this_ is what she's been missing every day for the past eight hundred and nineteen days and nights.

"I've missed you," he exhales across her lips, "I love you."

And with that, the spell breaks.

Her eyes are wide-open now, spitting fire, and Sakura straightens, shakes her head and pushes Sasuke away with the flat of a palm.

It's not a hard shove, normally she wouldn't have been able to budge him, but he reels back like she's punched him in the gut. His hair is mussed from her fingers, and his eyes still pitch-black, wide. She watches his hands clench, his arms rising as if to touch her again before dropping back down to his side.

"You can't-you can't just come in here after two years and kiss me, throw me some pretty words and expect me to come crawling back!" She spits, fingers curling into fists and nails biting into her palms.

"They're not just pretty words." Sasuke's voice is low and calm, but his eyes don't grow any lighter.

"Maybe you're right, Sasuke," Sakura smirks, "Maybe they're _not_ pretty, but they are _ just words, _and I'm still not going back with you."

"Then let me stay," he repeats, "Let me stay and prove to you..."

Sakura stares as he sputters to a stop, one hand now rubbing his jaw as he looks away. He is clean-shaven, which meant he'd used her bathroom, stood where she's stood for so many mornings alone, looked in her mirror and stood under the punishing spray of her shower. The thought agitates her more than she'd like to admit.

Sasuke is still looking resolutely away, his mouth pressed thin into a grim line, hand now running forcefully through tousled spikes. He is desperate, she realizes, the rigidity of his spine an epiphany. Uchiha Sasuke is desperate, distraught, torn, and she is the cause for it all. There's a part of her that relishes this newfound ability to hurt this man, who'd always seemed so impervious before. But a larger part of her, all the bits that make Haruno Sakura put her heart above her mind, is confused, is sent reeling.

"No," Sakura says, a soft whisper bridging two broken syllables into one, "I don't understand. You left me so easily last time, what's to keep you from leaving again? There was-there was no _warning_ or-"

Her voice rises, gaining strength as she speaks, until she's yelling, eyes narrowed and indignant, so indignant because _how dare_ _he, how dare he waltz back in here like he could fix anything with just _words_._

In the end Sakura's left with nothing but Sasuke, standing there looking at her, properly now, something wild still evident in the shadows of his face. She's spluttering with her anger, with two and a half years of repressed rage.

"You know, I was supposed to have gotten over everything. I was supposed to be able to walk back into Konoha, bump into you,and maybe you'll have another girlfriend, maybe you'll finally have that trophy wife the entire company thinks you need so badly, but I'd be able to look you in the eyes and smile. I never wanted to be the girl who kept wanting, who kept waiting like some pathetic cliche-I just. I don't need that, Sasuke. I don't."

She quiets by her second sentence, and her words only tremble with conviction now.

Through the window, the sun is high in the sky. Sakura checks the cheap clock on the wall with a jolt, finally noticing how late it is. Her shift starts soon, and she has to leave, to get going, get out. This time, Sasuke won't follow her; she knows that what happens next, whether he'll stay or go is her choice, just hers. Sakura ignores how unlike Sasuke this is and takes a deep breath, fixing her stare at some point above his head. The man stands stock still as she takes her first step forward, head turned to the side, so she takes the opportunity to look at him, all of him. He's wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans instead of the dark suit from the night before. His clothing is rumpled, the neckline of his shirt stretched beyond repair.

He's standing between her and the hallway to the bathroom; another step, and she is there-they are side by side, shoulders brushing. Sakura hesitates for just a split second, swallowing against the urge to turn and melt back into him, meld their bodies so all she can smell is his musk, until they are so inexorably linked that neither of them can tell where the one ends and the other begins...

There's a quick intake of breath, and Sasuke's arm shoots out, grasping hers again, "You're not sure."

Sakura looks at him, eyes so wide they hurt. She can't notice anything past the burning circle his fingers form around her wrist, or the way they're still so close that with the dissipation of the haze of lust she can make out perfectly the traces insomnia's left on his face.

"Don't walk away if you're not sure-I," he begins, fumbling uncharacteristically with his words, "I meant-I mean what I say. I love you, Sakura-I've, I've _kept_ loving you_. Nothing's going to change that_."

Sasuke takes another step closer, fingers loosening around her arm, giving her a chance, a choice. Sakura doesn't move.

"I left you. I left you because I thought you deserved someone better," he backtracks when he catches sight of the expression on her face, "or, I don't know what I was thinking. You remember what day it was-I was just...I _wasn't_ thinking, and by the time, by the time everything was said and done I couldn't take any of it back."

He stops, takes a single quick, deep breath. Then, "Please give me another chance."

Sakura wishes she knew what she looked like to him, right here and now; is she still as easy to read as she used to be? Uchiha Sasuke has just as good as admitted that he was wrong. It's the second time she's ever witnessed it and the first, the first she wouldn't believed him, because she could tell he'd only given her the words because he was sure they would make her stay.

Here, now, he is giving them to her freely. Sasuke isn't expecting anything, Sakura realizes, he only hopes.

She makes her decision.

"I'm not leaving Suna."

Sasuke's eyes have never left hers through the entirety of his speech (a speech, she thinks, this taciturn boy had made a _speech_ for her), but at her words his head bows and defeat is written in the clenching of his fingers once, twice before his hand slips from her wrist_._

Sakura bites her lip , "But I'm going to have to find a bigger apartment."

His head snaps up and he's watching her so carefully, like he doesn't believe her, like a single word uttered could change her mind. She should give him words of her own, but Sakura thinks that all those years, she's already said enough. Instead, she reaches out for Sasuke's hand, the one that he'd dropped just a few moments prior, entwining her fingers with his.

It feels familiar, those long fingers wrapped around hers, callouses rough against the skin of her palm. It's a hand that Sakura remembers, a hand that's been laid on every inch of her bare skin.

So much of the same, she thinks, except...

Except people aren't static. They change. This hand, this beautiful familiar hand is attached to a beautiful familiar man, and he-he must have changed. He _has _changed.

That sense of waiting, of wanting and standing still even as the rest of the world spins around her finally stops. Sakura looks up, tightens her fingers and steps back against Sasuke's chest. His arms are around her in an instant, and they stay that way, wrapped around each other for several small eternities, not moving, not speaking, his lips pressed against Sakura's hair and her head buried in the dark hollow between his neck and shoulder.

For the first time in almost two and a half years, Haruno Sakura breathes.

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><p><strong>an: **I hope that's satisfactory! Feedback is always loved and appreciated.


	10. Epilogue

**note:** Finished this in less than a month! 8D

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><p><em>A year and a half later.<em>

"Hello."

The woman sits across from him, pink hair held haphazardly in a messy braid, the same grey scarf she'd never stopped wearing hiding the slim white column of her throat. A cup of coffee sits steaming in front of her-it's black, no sugar. He knows because he'd ordered it for her. Today, her nails are green.

Sasuke puts down the book he's been reading, taking a moment to appreciate the red in Sakura's cheeks, residue from the cold. "Hey."

She grins, cupping her fingers and blowing into them for warmth, "Thanks for the coffee, you need a refill by the way."

"That can wait," he returns, before reaching out and taking her hands in his. Sasuke pretends not to notice the blush in her cheeks as he rubs her hands methodically between his, but the satisfied smirk gives him away.

"It's just the cold," she scowls, but quickly breaks into a half-smile, "Naruto called-he's mad that we haven't been over to see him yet."

He shrugs, still intent on her hands, on running his fingers over the delicate joints and soft skin, "And?"

After a moment, he adds, "I need to buy you a pair of gloves."

Her grin grows wider, "Worrywart. The _point_ is that he's pushing for a house warming party at the new apartment if we don't go over to his place."

"We can change the locks, or get a new apartment," he offers flatly.

Sakura laughs, and the sound warms something in him. Sasuke tips his head, looks away to the side to hide the small upturn of his lips. His reading glasses slip down the bridge of his nose meanwhile and the next thing he knows, she's close. Too close and not close enough, smelling of lavender and winter wind, deft fingers pushing his frames back up for him before taking his empty cup with hers.

Still smiling, she says, "I'll go get you more tea."

He watches her walk up to the cafe's counter and ask for refills. She's wearing skinny jeans tucked into big, clunky combat boots, his old leather jacket swallowing her whole. Sasuke approves of the jacket and appreciates the way the jeans delineate her long legs. Another smirk settles around his mouth as he imagines peeling those clothes off of her later, which he doesn't quite hide quickly enough before Sakura turns around, drinks in hand.

She reads his expression immediately and rolls her eyes, saying as she nears, "Not even a week back and Kakashi's already rubbing off on you. Here." She hands him the mug and smiles when he quietly thanks her.

Her own coffee's in a styrofoam cup and Sasuke raises his eyebrows in a question.

Sakura huffs, "Tsunade paged. She says Shizune had to leave early because Tonton got a cold-a _pig_, of all things-and now I'll have to take over her shift because we're short-staffed. Clinic hours." Her nose scrunches up in distaste and Sasuke wants to laugh-would laugh if he wasn't Uchiha and had to be dignified in public at all times-because that's been an expression of hers since they were in pre-school and he's glad that he can recognize it, guesses that some things really never change.

"Oh, you won't be laughing later, Uchiha Sasuke. I know for a fact that you have a ton of paperwork to deal with at the office because you've been away for so long." Sakura has to resort to sticking her tongue out at him when he only-really, truly-smiles in response, picking up her bag from the chair and walking out of the cafe with a flippant, "That smile doesn't work on me anymore, Sasuke-kun!" He only smiles wider because he knows, is so thankful, that it does, it still does after all this time.

Shaking his head, amused, he watches Sakura from the window until she disappears around the corner, but not before the girl looks over her shoulder and gives him one last, brilliant grin.

And Sasuke is fine, is okay-he can pick up his book, go back to where he left off, and concentrate on his reading. Because even if she is walking away from him right now, that bright, beautiful girl will be coming home later. To him.

**fin**

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><p><strong>an: **Done! I hope you guys had as much fun reading this as I did writing it, and thank you so much to anyone who bothered putting this story in their faves and alerts. And especially to everyone who's reviewed (and sometimes with essays! You know who you are, and you have no idea how much I appreciate your feedback) and dropped some kind words, encouragement, concrit, etc along my way. See you guys in LWH!


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